


Not a wound but its absence

by Lady_Iwa



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Competency Kink, Enemies to Lovers, Happy Ending, Jangobi Week, Jangobi Week 2021, M/M, Temporary Character Death, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Undercover, forced to work together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:21:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29146599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Iwa/pseuds/Lady_Iwa
Summary: With a grunt of effort, Obi-Wan surges up, shifting the soldier’s sword to the side and ramming shoulder-first into his distinctive green armor. His shoulder hits the dead center of the red circle on his breastplate and the shock of ithurts, but the Mandalorian goes down with a surprised whoosh of air. Obi-Wan barely avoids following him, stumbling back a few steps. Through their respective helmets, their eyes meet.The army swells around them, cutting them from each other’s sight.When the wave shifts again, the soldier is gone, swallowed back into a sea of painted armor.
Relationships: Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 87
Kudos: 431
Collections: Jangobi Week





	1. The spaces between the bubbles

**Author's Note:**

> My [Jangobi Week](https://jangobiweek.tumblr.com/post/640870028275793920/jangobiweek-prompts-for-jangobi-week-feb-1st-7th) fic, with one chapter per prompt!
> 
> Day 1: Enemies to Lovers  
> Day 2: Time Travel  
> Day 3: Undercover  
> Day 4: Forced to Work Together  
> Day 5: Competency Kink  
> Day 6: Fix-It AU  
> Day 7: Happy Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 1: Enemies to Lovers

The battle rages, the armies ebbing and flowing like the tides, clashing into each other again and again. In the middle of it, two figures meet. Jab, parry, slash. A step to the right, a step forward. Swords hit, lock together. With a heave, Obi-Wan pushes the enemy soldier back. Breathes through the pain in his side. Throws himself forward again.

The battle thunders around them, their own clash drowned out by the sounds of screams and death. Sweat drips down his forehead, burning his eyes, as his sword locks once again with his enemy’s. With a grunt of effort, Obi-Wan surges up, shifting the soldier’s sword to the side and ramming shoulder-first into his distinctive green armor. His shoulder hits the dead center of the red circle on his breastplate and the shock of it _hurts_ , but the Mandalorian goes down with a surprised whoosh of air. Obi-Wan barely avoids following him, stumbling back a few steps. Through their respective helmets, their eyes meet.

The army swells around them, cutting them from each other’s sight. 

When the wave shifts again, the soldier is gone, swallowed back into a sea of painted armor.

—

Their swords clash. Their eyes meet, hold.

"Hello again, darling."

Teeth bared, the soldier rears up, and Obi-Wan barely avoids a sword to the neck.

"What a temper!"

—

"Did you lose your helmet again?"

"Shut up."

"Your hair is getting longer, dear. It suits you!"

" _Shut up!_ "

They circle, ignoring the clamor around them. The armies are smaller, thinner, slower every time.

—

"You’re slow today."

"Ah, it’s nice to see you care, my dear. But please, don’t let that stop you."

"Never."

—

They fight, again, and again. Around them, soldiers in blue and white and red and beige fall and stumble up and fall and stay down. Their blades drip red. The soft grass is trampled into mud under the armies’ feet. One more stage for one more battle in a series that is starting to look endless.  
When their latest duel leaves them, panting, well away from the rest of the fighting and hidden away behind a thicket of trees, Obi-Wan’s blade dips down. His arms burn, his head pounds, his leg is throbbing in time with his heartbeat. In front of him, the soldier in green and red stumbles, catches himself, raises his sword again. Obi-Wan sighs.

His tiredness is bone-deep, a heavy weight pulling him down, down. Wounds old and new pull at his skin. The edge of his breastplate is digging into his ribs, where it got dented. He never found the time to get it fixed, between one battle and the next. He could, if pushed, fight against the soldier again. Maybe even put on a good show. But he is tired. Of fighting, of war, of holding a blade instead of a book. His blade dips down some more, until the tip rests in soft earth not yet disturbed by any fighting.

The soldier makes an incredulous noise, but his own sword wavers. Obi-Wan gives him the ghost of a smile.

"I won’t tell if you don’t?"

He waits with bathed breath, the air still, the sound of clashing armies muffled by the trees. Just as he’s resigning himself to yet another fight that will, hopefully, end in a draw, the soldier lowers his sword and backs up until he can lean against a tree. Obi-Wan sags in place, heaving a breath before taking a step back and sitting down, his own back against a tree. The soldier slides down the tree and takes off his helmet, setting it aside. He directs at Obi-Wan a look that wants to be suspicious but veers more towards exhausted. 

"Too tired to fight me?"

Obi-Wan chokes out a bitter laugh. "Too tired to fight, darling. I rather think you are, too."

Silence, for a moment, and Obi-Wan almost closes his eyes.

"Jango."

He blinks his eyes open.

"What?"

The soldier turns his gaze away, skittering over the trees, the grass, everywhere but at Obi-Wan.

"My name. Stop calling me darling."

Obi-Wan blinks. Closes his eyes.

"Well in that case, _Jango_ , you may call me Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan breathes out. Something is poking at his thoughts, niggling at the back of his head and—

Jango. Green and red. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes open, gaze fixing on Jango who immediately tenses.

" _Jango Fett_? You’re _Jango Fett_?"

Jango relaxes back against his tree, though his gaze is more alert, now. Wary.

"That’s me."

"The _crown prince_?"

Jango rolls his eyes, then winces. Head wound, maybe. There’s blood on his forehead, Obi-Wan realizes, before getting back to the matter at hand.

"I’ve been fighting regularly with the _Mandalorian crown prince_ for almost a year?"

Jango’s frowning, now, mouth set and gaze almost dangerous. Obi-Wan waves a dismissive hand at him, startling him out of his building glower.

"Oh, relax, dear, I’m just embarrassed I didn’t realize. I should have recognized your face, at least."

Jango narrows his eyes at him, body still in the way of a predator.

"You should have recognized my face?"

"Well, yes."

After a beat of silence, Jango knocks his head back against his tree and groans, part pain part annoyance.

"You’re General Kenobi, aren’t you?"

Obi-Wan offers him the best charming smile he can muster at the moment.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Oh, shut up."

He contemplates saluting him, for the irony, but moving is a chore right now. He falls into silence instead.

In the far distance, the sound of a war horn echoes. Obi-Wan blinks his eyes open, then blinks again at the change in light. Oh. Did he fall asleep? Opposite him, Jango groans and opens his eyes as well, his hand falling immediately to his sword when he sees Obi-Wan. They both look at each other for a heartbeat, two. Obi-Wan huffs out a laugh.

"Till next time?"

Jango nods, exhaustion in every line of his body.

They part way with a last look, dragging themselves away from the little corpse of trees. Back to their armies and to the careful shift of battles and supply lines. To little sleep and endless clashes.

Obi-Wan folds the moment in the trees in two, in four, in eight, and buries it deep in his mind, carefully out of his thoughts and yet perfectly preserved. Somehow, in this dragging war, this barely-a-conversation with the enemy crown prince is a bright spot. There are very few bright spots in a war.

—

"Why, it’s a pleasure to fight against you again, your highness!"

"Shut up and fight, _General_."

—

It’s almost a dance, now. The battles are smaller, skirmishes more than all out melee. They don’t have the manpower for those, anymore. The armies are too tired, have been thinned out too much. Yet, Obi-Wan and Jango clash swords almost as often as before. They end up on the same battlefields, in the same area. They always fight to a draw, then retreat.

Mace give Obi-Wan a look, after one such duel, but says nothing. Obi-Wan is too grateful to ask the reason for the leniency.

He keeps fighting Jango. Jango keeps fighting him.

More and more often, Jango joins in on the banter. They draw the duels out, more sparring than fighting. They both revel in the fight, in the worthy opponent. More than that, however, Obi-Wan revels in the snatches of time he can steal from the heaviness of war. Exhaustion drags at his steps, numbness creeps in his mind, blood stains his hands. But through it all, Jango is there to fight to exhilaration. To banter with. 

It’s a guilty pleasure, but one he doesn’t want to abandon. 

—

When they can, they let their fights drag them away from the others, to spots just secluded enough to lower their swords.

"There’s a pond, in the nearby forest, with the clearest water I’ve ever seen."

A snort. "Really? We’re standing in the middle of a city in ruins and you’re thinking about a pond?"

A sideway look up and down, a smirk.

"It’s not the pond itself, it’s what the water lets you see."

A silence, then a huff and a bitten-off smile.

"Oh really."

"Mh."

"Shame it’s too far from here to go have a look."

A sigh. "A shame indeed."

—

A step left, a shift, a lunge. Their swords glance off each other, their eyes meet over the scant few inches between them. Jango lost his helmet again. Obi-Wan lets his eyes dip down to his lips.

They push away, come together again in a clash of steel. Jango’s eyes are very dark when they meet his.

The battle winds down. Obi-Wan pulls back, calls a retreat. Jango does the same. They go their separate ways.

—

Mace looks exhausted and Obi-Wan feels guilt fester in his gut. He could have taken Jango down, maybe. Stopped the war, at least temporarily. He breathes out.

"Do you think…"

Mace looks up and makes a questioning noise.

"Maybe I could talk to Fett, the next time we cross path on the battlefield. Start peace negotiations."

Mace closes his eyes. Shakes his head.

"Piell was killed last night. The senate will never say yes to peace negotiations."

—

The next time he crosses path with Jango, away from other soldiers and generals, Obi-Wan is fresh out of a fight, bruises and cuts littering his body despite his armor. There’s a hastily patched up wound on his thigh that pulls with every step he takes. He’s… not hiding, because a General doesn’t hide between battles, but he is _tired_. His heart aches and grows heavier with each soldier they lose, each battle they are called to fight. 

Jango looks just as surprised to see him as he is. They both raise their swords, but Obi-Wan lowers his immediately and stumbles to a miraculously intact bench in what was once a courtyard and is now little more than rubble. His sword clatters to the ground next to the bench and he lets his head fall into his hands.

Jango stays, frozen, his sword raised, before he sheathes it and comes closer, his steps hesitant.

"Kenobi?"

Obi-Wan can’t bring himself to answer, his tongue heavy in his mouth.

A hand lands on his shoulder, a barely there weight that he feels all the way through three layers of clothes.

"Obi-Wan?"

He huffs out a humorless laugh.

"I’m afraid I’m terrible company right now, dear."

He feels Jango hesitate, then sit down next to him, shoulder pressed against his.

They stay like that for long minutes, until Obi-Wan raises his head and leans it on Jango’s pauldron. 

It’s terribly uncomfortable.

He stays there until the sun dips below the horizon and he can no longer excuse shirking his duties.

Jango lets him.

—

The stolen moments accumulate, all carefully stored away in his mind as they go by. Around them, the war ebbs and flows. Whenever it looks like it could be brought to a stop, an attack prompts a retaliation and it starts again. The Senate refuses to initiate peace talks. Jaster Mereel refuses to back down until Galidraan has been paid for. On the battlefields, soldiers fight and die. The lines get redrawn again and again as each side gains and loses the advantage.

Obi-Wan and Jango’s first kiss is a hurried affair, given and received while just out of sight of the other soldiers, between a slash and a feint.

Mandalorians in blue and grey set off explosives in a city near the capital. The Senate sends a battalion to retaliate.

Obi-Wan ducks away in the middle of the night to meet up with Jango, who rages against the Mandalorian attack.

—

"I have to go"

"Mh, no, you’re warm _cyare_ , stay."

"Darling, I have at least an hour to walk to get back to camp. I have to leave now if I want to get there unseen."

Jango sighs, loosens his embrace. Lets his fingers trail on Obi-Wan’s skin as he pulls away to get dressed.

"I wish…"

Obi-Wan turns to look at him over his shoulder.

"Mh?"

Jango shakes his head.

"Nothing."

—

The battle starts like any other, the armies well used to it by now, trying to gain a temporary advantage to make the next engagement easier, the downtime longer. It feels almost normal.

And then the explosions start. For a moment, Obi-Wan thinks it’s a Mandalorian attack, explosives hidden under the battlefield and triggered with flaming arrows. But the explosions rock both armies without care. Obi-Wan watches, sick to his stomach, as a soldier in blue and grey jumps at Mace with explosives in hand. The explosion mows down Republic and Mandalorian soldiers alike.

Ears full of screams and explosions, throat choked by fumes and tears, he stumbles from one end of the battlefield to the other. The forest stretching there beckons, its shadows invitingly enveloping. More than once, his steps falter as death greets him on familiar faces. Ranked soldiers, decorated warriors from both sides… important war figures picked off by explosions, one by one. Staggering, numb, he keeps walking.

He doesn’t know how he makes it to the forest. He lost his sword somewhere on the way, abandoned his helmet at the first tree. There’s a pond, here. Clear waters. The war seems very far away.

Mace is dead. Jango is… Given the targets of these explosives, Jango might very well be dead. _He_ should probably be dead as well, given his rank.

Obi-Wan curls up on the ground next to the pond, mind going alarmingly blank. The edge of his breastplate digs into his ribs.

Hours later, a noise rouses him. He doesn’t move.

Behind him, there’s a sharp inhale.

"Obi-Wan?"

Mind suddenly ablaze with hope, he scrambles up, turns around. Falls into Jango’s arms.

" _Jango_!"

" _Cyare, cyare_ I thought you were dead. It’s Death Watch. They…" His voice is sharp like broken glass, like the words shred his throat as they come out.

Obi-Wan clings closer, lets Jango bury his head in the crook of his neck.

"They killed my father."

Obi-Wan makes a noise, wordless, and tightens his arms.

"I’m sorry darling. I’m terribly sorry."

Jango inhales, slowly, and Obi-Wan feels dread rise. He almost asks Jango not to say whatever is making him this tense in his arms. Almost.

"Palatine declared himself king."

Obi-Wan’ breath sticks in his throat.

"What? But, Death Watch…"

"Working together."

There is enough bitterness in Jango’s voice to poison an ocean.

"For how long— no, I suppose it doesn’t matter."

His throat is tight, strangling the words he doesn’t know to say to comfort them both. Obi-Wan shakes his head, pulls back. When Jango makes a wounded noise, he shushes him, pulls him along. They shed their armor haphazardly, uncaring of where the pieces fall, and curl up together next to the pond, Obi-Wan’s back to Jango’s chest. Wrapped tight in Jango’s arms, Obi-Wan stretches his arm to dip the tip of his fingers in the pond’s clear waters. Wishing for better times. 

He falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise it ends well. Bear with me.
> 
> \--
> 
> The fic and chapter titles come from a few of Richard Siken's and Lucy Wainger's poems  
> Fic: [_Scheherazade._](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/91308/scheherazade-582211e165e9a), Lucy Wainger  
> Chapter 1: [_Scheherazade._](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/91308/scheherazade-582211e165e9a), Lucy Wainger  
> 


	2. A hayfield thick with sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan wakes up. While that, in and of itself, is not surprising, everything else is. For one, he’s in a bed, which he definitely wasn’t when he went to sleep. More alarmingly, he doesn’t seem to be able to move his body at all. _Most_ alarmingly, he is not alone in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: Time Travel

Obi-Wan wakes up. While that, in and of itself, is not surprising, everything else is. For one, he’s in a bed, which he definitely wasn’t when he went to sleep. More alarmingly, he doesn’t seem to be able to move his body at all. _Most_ alarmingly, he is not alone in his head.

_Who are you? What’s happening? Get out!_

Obi-Wan blinks. Well, imagines blinking.

_I’m me. Obi-Wan Kenobi. Who are you?_

There a rush of confusion over the general panic.

_That’s… not possible. **I’m** Obi-Wan Kenobi._

The feeling inside his head slow, sharpen.

_Are **we** Obi-Wan Kenobi? Are we losing our mind?_

It’s difficult to decide which one of them thought that. That fact should probably be more alarming than it feels.

_We should ask Jango, he’d know if we were losing our mind._

A pause, surprised.

_Jango? Who’s Jango?_

That thought, however, is clearly from Other-Obi-Wan.

_What do you mean, who’s Jango?_

_The only Jango I know of is the Mandalorian crown prince. Surely you’re not— Oh. Yes, you do mean him. And you… we…_

Their thoughts intertwine, merge.

_Oh. Oh Force. That… We can’t let all that happen._

_No. No we can’t. We’ll...?_

_Yes, yes of course. Good luck._

Their thoughts twine. Fuse. Obi-Wan opens his eyes.

  
—

  
He’s in Theed, right after the second big engagement of the war. Over a year back. Still early enough that the army looks well-fed and well-rested if a little bruised. Everywhere he looks, he sees faces he’d long mourned brightening in laughter or frowning in dismay. It feels like a blessing, one he isn’t sure he deserves but one he’ll fight for nonetheless. This early in the war, there are still too many faces to know them all, but his heart swells whenever he recognizes one, even if only distantly.

Feeling lighter than he has in a long time, Obi-Wan walks through Theed with a smile on his face. The sun shines, the city still stands and, somewhere, Jango is alive. And might not know him. Obi-Wan swallows, his happiness turning sour. He lets himself yearn, for a heartbeat, before steeling himself. He turns on his heels and walks deeper into the city. If this is a blessing, his own personal miracle, then he will do everything in his power not to waste it. He can start by investigating.

Jango said Death Watch and Palpatine. Death Watch is out of his reach right now, but this is Theed. Birth city of Senator Palpatine. Surely there is something to find.

There is nothing to find. 

Days later, smile barely hanging on, Obi-Wan nods as yet another contact informs him of a dead end. Either Palpatine is a master at hiding his tracks, or he hasn’t started reaching for Emperorship yet. Or maybe he doesn’t do anything traceable in Theed. Obi-Wan rubs at his beard. He could, maybe, convince Mace to let him go back to Coruscant for a bit if he had a good excuse. Or… Obi-Wan frowns. Death Watch. If Palpatine and Death Watch work together, and he can find an in, a way to get closer to Death Watch members…

With the beginning of a plan in mind, he turns his feet to the war room for the first time since his awakening in the past. A soldier salutes as he reaches the room and he smiles at her, heart in his throat. She died near Ryloth to save Mace, in a future that doesn’t exist. He can’t remember her name.

He steps into the war room and freezes. He knows, he _knows_ , that Mace is alive, here. Has even seen him since awakening, if only in passing. But with the future-that-isn’t fresh on his mind, all he can see is an explosion, and Mace’s eyes meeting his right before the Death Watch soldier tackled him.

“—bi-Wan?”

He shakes himself and offers a wan smile to Mace.

“Sorry. Bad night.”

Mace frowns. “More like bad _week_. You’ve barely been in here in the last few days.”

“My apologies. I was distracted. Theed is a beautiful city.”

He is the furthest from convincing and he knows it. Gratitude and affection curl in his chest as Mace visibly lets it go.

“Did you want to see me?”

“Ah, yes, indeed.” Obi-Wan runs a hand through his hair, tugging lightly at it to ground himself in the present. “I have some information that—”

A shadow shifts at the window and Obi-Wan bites his words back. He looks at Mace and flicks his eyes to the window again before smiling grimly.

“Well. That could help get more intel from the Mandalorians.”

Mace is still frowning, but he nods after a quick glance at the window. Message received, then. They have a guest. While Mace probably thinks them to be a Mandalorian spy, Obi-Wan has doubts. They are in Theed. Palpatine must have spies here, if he is already working with Death Watch. And if he has spies… Obi-Wan has just spent the last few days looking for any trace of shady dealings by Palpatine. He pinches his lips together, frowning down at the map painted on the floor between him and Mace. Maybe his plan can be doubly beneficial. And if it brings him closer to Jango at the same time, well. He can hope whatever brought him back also brought Jango, right?

“Obi-Wan?” The concern in Mace’s face is startling for how apparent it is.

Obi-Wan grimaces and waves a hand in the air. “Apologies. As I was saying, I believe the Mandalorian princes have been spotted on the battlefields? Getting access to one of them would—” _make negotiations easier_ , he wants to say, is _expected_ to say, “—give us leverage.”

At the window the shadow shifts and disappears. Amateur. 

When he looks back at mace, he finds him frowning at him.

“Leverage.”

“Yes.”

“You, the Negotiator, want _leverage_ instead of diplomatic access.”

Obi-Wan smiles, mouth full of glass, and wills Mace to understand.

“Well, you can’t very well win a war with words, now can you?”

Mace watches him for a long, long moment, then runs a hand over his face.

“Tell me your plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They'll be back together soon. Well, together. I mean, in the vicinity of one another, at least...
> 
> \--
> 
> The fic and chapter titles come from a few of Richard Siken's and Lucy Wainger's poems  
> Fic: [_Scheherazade._](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/91308/scheherazade-582211e165e9a), Lucy Wainger  
> Chapter 1: [_Scheherazade._](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/91308/scheherazade-582211e165e9a), Lucy Wainger  
> Chapter 2: [_Landscape with a Blur of Conquerors_](https://poets.org/poem/landscape-blur-conquerors), Richard Siken


	3. Names of collisions in the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teal for healing, yellow for remembrance, black for justice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: Undercover

It’s a great plan, even if Mace looks dubious when he hears it.

“You want to just… pretend to be a Mandalorian. And infiltrate their royal court to kidnap one of the princes.”

“Maybe even the king!” he says, voice full of humor but face serious.

Mace stares at him before raising a brow. The corner of his mouth ticks up, just for a moment, and Obi-Wan takes it as the understanding it is. Spies are not frequent (yet) but Mace has always been good at reading between the lines. For a moment, Obi-Wan considers explaining his miracle. Something stays his tongue, however, and he simply smiles and starts listing what he’ll need.

Getting the armor is easy enough. Mandalorians might take great pride in their armor, but not every one of them is able to get a full traditional set. As mismatched as his set looks, with his own breastplate and pauldrons, a pair of adjusted vambraces, and greaves looted from a battlefield, it will do the job once everything is painted.

Getting the paint, on the other hand, is surprisingly difficult. The first attempt doesn’t look _right_ , nor does the second, or the third. Eventually, to Mace’s obvious relief, Obi-Wan finds a mix that looks right, the way he remembers Jango’s armor looking. He starts painting.

The final armor is teal, edged in black, with a yellow and black circle in the middle of his breastplate. Not quite a match to Jango’s armor, but close enough to be a reminder. Close enough to hurt, yes, but like a tired muscle, not a gaping wound. Teal for healing, yellow for remembrance, black for justice.

“You’ve thought about this. The colors and…” Mace gestures at the thin band of black around the yellow circle “…placement. It means that much?”

 _How do you know so much about it?_ He doesn’t ask.

Obi-Wan smiles. Spreads his fingers over the yellow.

“It does.”

 _Jango taught me_ , he doesn’t answer.

  
—

  
_His fingers run over Jango’s breastplate, following the edge of the red circle that rests there._

_“Why a red circle? Isn’t that putting a target on your chest?”_

_Jango’s fingers curl over his._

_“Red is to honor a parent or leader. It covers my heart to show how important that is to me.”_

_“What about the green, then? And the orange?”_

_Jango brings Obi-Wan’s fingers to his lips, kisses them._

_“Green is for duty, orange is a lust for life.”_

_“Any other notable colors?”_

_“Why, do you want to paint yours? I’m not sure how your Republic would like it.”_

_A soft huff of laughter._

_“Who knows. Maybe one day.”_

—

  
“Promise me you’ll find a way to check in. As often as you can.”

“Yes, Mace.”

“I’m not talking about _reports_ , Obi-Wan. I want to know your plan doesn’t get you killed. _Check in_.”

“ _Yes_ , Mace. I know. Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

Mace frowns and hides his hands in the sleeves of his coat. “Do you? You’ve been off for the last week or so. Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“I’m sure.”

He would be more exasperated, maybe, if he didn’t know how odd it must look to Mace. As far as he knows, Obi-Wan has gone from speaking wistfully about his books and teas to planning an incursion to the center of the Mandalorian kingdom, practically overnight. 

Mace shakes his head. “Alright. But—”

“ _Be careful_ , I know.”

Mace smiles, on the edge of mischievous. “ _But_ say hi to her for me while you’re in Keldabe.” He turns on his heel and starts walking back towards Theed.

Obi-Wan blinks at his retreating back. What?

“What do you mean, ‘say hi to her’?”

Mace raises a hand and waves without turning around.

“Mace! Who’s ‘ _her_ ’?”

  
—

  
At least, Obi-Wan thinks, Mace’s parting quip is a mystery to think on as he travels to Keldabe. Theed is fairly close to the border, but Keldabe is at the heart of Mandalore and he’d rather not arrive there from the frontlines. It will be less suspicious if he arrives from the North. That adds another week of travel to an already two-week-long trip, but he’s had worse. At least, this time, he has a horse.

For all Jango had tried, his words hadn’t done justice to Keldabe. The city spreads out in a tight arc, buildings climbing higher towards the center-back, with geometric designs etched in most of the walls he can see. People mill around in colorful clothes and armors, carrying the smells of sun-warm skin and spices. He can’t quite stop himself from craning his neck to take it all in, holding Boga’s lead and he wanders through the city. It’s a relief that so many Mandalorians wear their helmets even here, because his gawking draws attention very quickly. His face is not known everywhere, but he’s not quite anonymous either. He is especially glad for the helmet when two men start making their way to him. He doesn’t _think_ he’s encountered them before but their armors, green with blue markings, remind him of Jango’s. 

They fall in step with him and the closest one removes his helmet, revealing a young face with enough similarities to Jango’s to denote a family tie. Yes, the helmet was a good idea. If this is one of the princes, he might have seen Obi-Wan on the battlefield. Better not risk removing the helmet yet.

“May I help you?” It was always a good idea to be polite to royalty.

The man snorts and shakes his head. “I was going to ask the same thing, actually. You look a little lost.”

Obi-Wan ducks his head, as if embarrassed.

“Ah. Well. I haven’t been to Keldabe in… honestly, too long to remember. It’s much more beautiful than I expected.”

The man puffs up, and his companion elbows him with a laugh.

“What are you looking so smug for? _You_ didn’t build it!”

“Maybe not, but I can be proud! It’s our capital! I live there! I _contribute_ to making it great, don’t I?”

Obi-Wan watches, bemused, as they fall into good-natured bickering, still following him and his aimless wandering. Eventually, eerily in synch, they turn to him and the helmetless one smiles at him, wide and boyish.

“Sorry, Echo’s a bit of an idiot!”

“Hey!” Protests Echo with all the offense of a younger sibling repeating a long-lasting argument.

“I’m Fives and that’s Echo, my younger brother.”

“By 11 minutes!”

Fives blindly throws his hand back to push on Echo’s helmet “Still littler. Now hush, baby-brother, I want to hear the stranger introduce himself.”

On the edge of both laughter and heartache, Obi-Wan smiles. Jango’s cousins are exactly like he’d described them. “I’m Ben. It’s a pleasure to meet you. But please, don’t let me interrupt your very important debate.” He pauses, considers leaving it at that, then bites back a grin and pulls out his most conciliatory voice. “I’m sure you’d eventually find a way you contribute to Keldabe’s greatness, Fives. If you try very very hard.”

He waits with bated breath, hoping he’d judged them well, and then Echo bends over laughing while Fives gasps and points at Obi-Wan.

“You-!”

“I?”

“You-!”

Behind him, Echo hiccups and takes off his helmet, face creased with a wide grin as he keeps laughing. Obi-Wan grins under his helmet. Maybe this will be easier—and more pleasant—than he’d expected, after all.

“Fives,” gasps Echo as he catches his breath, “Fives, can we please introduce him to Rex?”

At that, Fives shakes himself from his indignation, and a wide, slightly worrying smile spreads on his face. “Ben, if we introduce you to our cousin, can you _please_ imply he’s just a pretty face? _To his face_? I will _pay_ you.”

Obi-Wan laughs, shaking his head. “Isn’t Rex Fett one of the princes? I’m not sure I want to risk it.”

“But making fun of the extended royal family is alright with you?” Fives raises his eyebrows, playfully offended, while Echo looks genuinely curious to hear his answer.

Obi-Wan raises a hand to his mouth, over his helmet, and gasps loudly. “No! You didn’t tell me you were royals! How could I know who I was making fun of?” He breaks into a theatric bow. “My deepest apologies, my lords.”

When he straightens, the twins are looking at him with the same considering expression.

“Yes,” says Fives, “I think we really need to introduce you to some of our cousins.”

Obi-Wan inhales, hand tightening on Boga’s lead. This is almost too easy, but… 

“Actually, if it’s not too much to ask… I’ve come to Keldabe in the hopes of getting an Audience with King Mereel.”

  
—

  
While young and friendly, the twins are not stupid and do not bring a stranger directly to the King. Obi-Wan had not expected that to happen and is thus not surprised. He’d expected to get information about audiences, maybe directions to where to go. Instead, Fives and Echo walk him to the castle courtyard, where he’s instructed to leave his horse, and then to a smaller courtyard. While the main one was open to anyone, this second one has guards at the entrance who nod at the twins and stare at Obi-Wan, most likely committing his armor to memory. Not quite private, but definitely restricted. After a rapid whispered discussion, Echo leaves the courtyard, and Fives waves Obi-Wan over to a bench in the shade. 

He looks wry but not apologetic. “We can’t let just anyone get to the King, which I’m sure you know. But we can get one of our cousins to vet you.”

Obi-Wan nods and, after a moment of hesitation, takes his helmet off. “I understand perfectly, and I’m grateful that you’re even helping this much given how few details I can share with you. If it’s worth anything, I promise I have no nefarious designs for the king or any of the royal family.”

Fives looks at him for a long moment before smiling and looking, all of a sudden, very young. “You know what?” He extends a hand and taps at Obi-Wan’s teal breastplate. “I believe you.”

They fall into light conversation easily, sharing inconsequential anecdotes and memories as they wait. Obi-Wan is in the middle of explaining the trouble Boga had put him in when she’d gotten startled by a bird when Echo clears his throat. Obi-Wan turns his head with a smile on his lips, only to freeze when his eyes land on a familiar figure. Green and red and orange, armor shining in the sun, Jango looks down at him and Fives with his helmet under his arm and a frown on his face. Obi-Wan stares at him like a man dying of thirst until Fives elbows him. Startled back into the present, he hurries to stand and taps a fist over his chest, bowing.

“J— Prince Fett. My apologies, I wasn’t expecting Echo to fetch you. Not that I’m unappreciative, I simply did not expect the crown prince to…” He swallows back the rush of words pressing behind his teeth, shoves his hurt and longing down to be dealt with later, and starts again. “My name is Ben. I have reasons to believe that Death Watch is working against both the Republic and Mandalore. I would request an audience with King Mereel to present my findings and get his authorization to investigate the matter more thoroughly.”

At his side, Fives sucks in a breath. At Jango’s shoulder, Echo is wide-eyed.

Jango, on the other hand, frowns, his eyes narrowing in that way they did when he was suspicious, at the beginning of their… Of them. It is not exactly a surprise, but it hurts. Still, he has the chance to gaze at him once more, to see him as he was before the exhaustion of the war really took hold. He looks younger, and just as handsome. Obi-Wan can’t help smiling at him, and Jango’s suspicious look fades into confusion for a brief moment before coming back full force.

“And you can’t give _me_ your information instead?”

“I could, certainly, but given that I’d like the King’s permission to access some documents and locations to investigate, I thought it would be easier to talk to him directly, _your highness_.”

Fives makes a strangled noise at his tone, and Obi-Wan bites his tongue. That… might have been closer to the way he used to call Jango ‘your highness’, Before, than to the way one should call a prince ‘your highness’. As Jango gives him another confused look, Obi-Wan silences the voice in his mind that tells him to be careful and smiles. If he is lucky, he will manage to endear himself to Jango again. If not, well. Better not to think about that possibility yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Step 1: Meet Jango again  
> Step 2: Flirt like you're already an established couple  
> Step 3: ???  
> Step 4: Profit (kisses)
> 
> \--
> 
> The fic and chapter titles come from a few of Richard Siken's and Lucy Wainger's poems  
> Fic: [_Scheherazade._](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/91308/scheherazade-582211e165e9a), Lucy Wainger  
> Chapter 1: [_Scheherazade._](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/91308/scheherazade-582211e165e9a), Lucy Wainger  
> Chapter 2: [_Landscape with a Blur of Conquerors_](https://poets.org/poem/landscape-blur-conquerors), Richard Siken  
> Chapter 3: [_Saying your names_](http://youngerpoets.yupnet.org/2008/04/17/saying-your-names-crush-by-richard-siken-2004-winner/), Richard Siken


	4. The blood in your mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My name,” he says, heart in his throat, “is Obi-Wan Kenobi.”  
> He carefully doesn’t move as Jango’s blade comes to rest against his throat.  
> “And _what_ ,” Jango growls, his blade steady and so very close to Obi-Wan’s skin, “is High General Obi-Wan Kenobi doing in Keldabe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: Forced to Work Together

Jango agrees to let him meet the King, which is a relief. The condition to getting that audience is the presence of armed guards in the room, which is problematic. Obi-Wan manages to negotiate the number of guards from six to two by letting Jango take his sword, dagger and knife. It leaves Obi-Wan’s skin crawling, to walk into the throne room with an armed Mandalorian escort —two guards, Jango, and the twins— with only a knife hidden in his boot, but it’s a small price to pay. He trusts Jango, for all that he maybe shouldn’t, and _he_ obviously trusts the twins. If the guards stay at the door, it will be as close to a private audience with the King as is possible, given the circumstances.

Jaster Mereel is a broad-shouldered man with salt and pepper curls and an armor left mostly bare except for large swatches of green, a yellow diamond on his breastplate, and red pauldrons. Duty, remembrance, and a lust for life. It’s very close to Jango’s paint, and the corner of Obi-Wan’s mouth curls up as he looks between them. A red circle over his heart, indeed.

The twins salute Mereel and hover near the room entrance with the guards while Jango all but marches Obi-Wan down to the throne before saluting his father. Obi-Wan follows suit with a fist on his chest and a slight bow.

“Your majesty, I cannot thank you enough for agreeing to hear me out.”

Mereel quirks a small smile. “I had some time, and Fives and Echo spoke highly of you.”

Obi-Wan looks at the twins over his shoulder, smiling when Fives perks up and waves, before turning back to the king. “I found them similarly delightful, your majesty. Very enthusiastic.”

Something relaxes in the king’s posture at his words and Obi-Wan carefully hides his surprise. Maybe his understanding of the Mandalorian royal family is less complete than he thought, if liking and being liked by the king’s nephews is so well received. King Mereel leans forward and leans his chin on an upraised fist, with none of the stuffy propriety of Senate members.

“You had information for me?”

Obi-Wan nods and opens his mouth, then closes it. He checks that the room is empty of anyone but the three of them, with the guards and the twins at the entrance, too far to hear, and takes a risk. “My name,” he says, heart in his throat, “is Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

He carefully doesn’t move as Jango’s blade comes to rest against his throat.

“And _what_ ,” Jango growls, his blade steady and so very close to Obi-Wan’s skin, “is High General Obi-Wan Kenobi doing in Keldabe.”

“ _As I told you_ , dear, I have reasons to believe that Death Watch is working against Mandalore. If you could take your sword down and _avoid bringing attention to me_ , it would be much appreciated. Surely, if I wanted to harm your king, I would have found a less ridiculous way to do so.”

Jango hesitates. Obi-Wan swallows, steel brushing his skin, and does not think about other fights that ended much more pleasantly than this one would. It’s only when Mereel gestures at the guards to stand down that Jango reluctantly sheathes his sword. Telegraphing his movement, Obi-Wan reaches up and brushes his fingers over his throat. No blood. Good.

“I hope you trust those two guards, because my plan will not work if they let out that the crown prince looked ready to behead me.”

“Your plan to _infiltrate the Mandalorian court_?”

“Oh, darling, only a poor infiltrator would introduce himself from the get-go.”

Jango glowers but, before he can voice the words obviously gathering on his tongue, Mereel chuckles. They both turn to him, startled by the sound.

“He does have a point, Jango. Kenobi, why don’t you explain yourself in more detail?”

“Of course, your majesty.”

Carefully, carefully, Obi-Wan presents what little information he has. He has no proof, and can only present his conjectures based on what he knows had-happened-but-would-not-happen. The whole _point_ of this plan is to be in the position to find proof. Luckily, Jango and Mereel are both quick and Obi-Wan’s knowledge is just enough to generate considering looks and one heavy half-silent conversation between the two Mandalorians. 

As father and son consider the information Obi-Wan provided, he watches Jango. He looks healthy and well-rested. He’s obviously in his element, as comfortable discussing politics and strategies with his father as he is with a blade in hand. It’s not a side of Jango that he has seen before, not to this extent. Despite what they’d shared, they’d still been from opposing sides of the war, and devoted to their respective duties besides. It warms something in Obi-Wan to see it, now, in this present.

When he turns back to Mereel, it’s to find the king looking at him with an indecipherable gaze. Obi-Wan blinks at him, and Mereel nods, approving.

Obi-Wan is still perplexed by the interaction when Mereel announces that Obi-Wan has his blessing to investigate, but that he must stay with one of his children at all times.

“We wouldn’t want someone to decide you look suspicious,” is all he says on the subject.

Obi-Wan smiles politely, thanks him, and does not voice what they both know. The _king_ finds him suspicious, just not enough to keep him from investigating Death Watch. They also share an amused look when Jango grumbles about not being a babysitter but, tellingly, doesn’t even try to get out of said ‘babysitting duties’.

He follows Jango out of the throne room, from which Fives and Echo have already disappeared to go who knows where, and barely reins in a double-take when a pretty woman with her hair wrapped in dark cloth raises an eyebrow at him as she crosses his path. He hasn’t seen Luminara Unduli in over a year.

It seems he is not the sole Republic citizen in Keldabe.

  
—

  
The rest of the day isn’t awkward only because Obi-Wan categorically refuses to let it be so. He requests access to mission reports and information on Death Watch, chats _at_ Jango more than _with_ him, and calls him ‘darling’ often enough that Jango eventually growls at him to stop.

“I am the _crown prince of Mandalore_ , stop calling me _darling_.”

“Very well, _your highness_.”

“And stop saying my title like that!”

“Like what, _your highness_?”

“Like… like you…” 

Jango growls and throws his hands in the air before stalking off, only to turn on his heels and get back to his chair and his papers with a petulant frown. Obi-Wan smiles at him and goes back to reading the reports he’d been looking through.

  
—

  
Obi-Wan meets Cody Fett the next morning, on his way out of the castle. He looks strikingly like his older brother, except for a curling scar on the side of his face and his haircut. He looks Obi-Wan up and down, then turns to Jango and raises a brow. Jango rolls his eyes.

“This is Ben. I’m helping him on a project for dad.”

“A project.”

Cody doesn’t look impressed, but Obi-Wan gets the feeling he’s a difficult man to impress.

“Yes, a project. Go ask dad for details.”

Obi-Wan smiles and salutes the second prince of Mandalore. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, your highness. His majesty has been kind enough to grant me leave to work on a project of mine with some help from the crown prince. I’m sure the king would better know which information would be of interest to you.”

He meets Cody’s eyes head-on and gets, in return, an indecipherable look that echoes that of the king the day before.

“In that case, I’ll leave you to your project.”

“Cody,” says Jango, taking a step forward as his brother turns to leave, “can I speak to you for a minute?”

When Cody nods, Jango turns to Obi-Wan.

“Don’t move.”

They walk away and Obi-Wan amuses himself by trying to guess the topic of the whispered conversation by the expressions crossing prince Cody’s face. He’s quite difficult to read, but he gets the same look as Jango when he’s amused and doesn’t want to show it. Whatever they are talking about, Cody is silently laughing at Jango and shaking his head no. 

Keldabe is beautiful even with a disgruntled Jango at his side, but his foul mood makes it much harder to enjoy the outing.

“Am I to understand my company is displeasing?”

Jango blinks at him, startled out of his glower. “What?”

“If I’m not mistaken,” he answers, steeling his heart for the upcoming hurt, “you tried to convince your brother to replace you as my escort.”

Jango gives him a _look_ , like he just said something stupid.

“Of course I tried to get him to replace me. I don’t trust you, but I trust _him_ , and I have more important duties than following you around to make sure you don’t sabotage anything or hurt anyone.”

Obi-Wan breathes in, counts to five, breathes out. This was so much easier on the battlefield. How did he manage it, last time? What did he do, to make Jango like him?

“In that case, I hope that finding out whether the subject of our investigation is a danger to Mandalore or not ranks high enough in your duties to compensate having to ‘follow me around’.”

Maybe the price of his miracle is Jango’s affection. Maybe he should be content with fixing the war and stop trying to get Jango’s affection. Maybe he should, but he doesn’t know if he can.

  
—-

  
The first trace of tampering he finds is on a report from a skirmish near the Mandalorian border. He skims the report, almost skipping over it before his mind catches up with his eyes and he turns back to it. He rereads it, more carefully, and frowns. He remembers this battle. A group of scouts had been sent out to find the location of a Mandalorian battalion seen in the area to try and guess their attack plan. No more than five scouts, equipped for speed and discretion, had ventured past the border and close to a nearby village. None had come back.

And yet this report, from the same time and location, tells of a Republic battalion armed to the teeth who’d burnt that same village down before fleeing into the forest.

“Jango, darling,” he calls distractedly, “do you know a ‘Hudu Shiv’? And… ‘Montross’? I feel like I should know that name.”

When no answer comes, he raises his head and looks up at Jango, who has a… complicated expression on his face.

“Whatever is the problem, my dear?”

Jango stares at him a moment longer before shaking his head. “Yes, you should know the name Montross. He’s one of my father’s generals. And Hudu Shiv is…” He frowns, “a lieutenant stationed at the North-West border, I believe.”

Obi-Wan turns back to his papers. “Your Hudu Shiv is either a liar or seeking glory, and badly at that. This skirmish did _not_ go as described here. There was no battalion, and none of the scouting party ever came back.”

Jango frowns, leaning over the table to have a look. Obi-Wan obligingly turns the paper around and slides it closer, tapping the signature at the bottom.

“Montross is the one who approved the report.”

—

  
He manages to slip out from Jango’s watchful eyes right before lunchtime. He doesn’t go very far at all, only walking through the tall bookcases until he reaches the other end of the library where Luminara is comfortably settled on a plush chair with a book in her hands. When Obi-Wan sits on the ottoman in front of her, she closes her book and smiles at him.

“Hello there,” he says, picking up her offered hand and kissing her knuckles, “I wasn’t expecting to see you here. Mace says hi.”

“It’s a pleasure to see you, _Ben_. Whatever are you doing here?”

Obi-Wan looks back at the bookcases, but there is no sign of Jango.

“Death Watch is working both sides. I believe a senator is helping them.”

She inhales and squeezes his fingers.

“That is…”

“Not good?” he offers, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

She laughs and swats at him with her free hand.

That’s how Jango finds them, holding hands and muffling inappropriate giggles. Obi-Wan immediately turns to face him, like a flower to the sun, and Luminara kicks him in the shin while looking perfectly composed. She salutes and half-bows.

“Your highness.”

“Madam Unduli. I didn’t know you were in the library. I hope Ben wasn’t bothering you.”

Obi-Wan gives him a wounded look, but Jango refuses to meet his eyes. Luminara hides her smile behind her hand.

“Oh, it’s no trouble, your highness. Ben is quite charming.”

Jango huffs out a breath, then nods at her politely and gestures at Obi-Wan to follow him. “Nevertheless, we have things to do and will not be bothering you any longer.”

When Jango turns and stalks back to their table, Obi-Wan turns to Luminara only to find her giving him a dubious look.

“Really, Ben. The Mandalorian crown prince?”

Ben gives her his best charming smile and shrugs before hurrying after Jango.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fic and chapter titles come from a few of Richard Siken's and Lucy Wainger's poems  
> Fic: [_Scheherazade._](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/91308/scheherazade-582211e165e9a), Lucy Wainger  
> Chapter 1: [_Scheherazade._](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/91308/scheherazade-582211e165e9a), Lucy Wainger  
> Chapter 2: [_Landscape with a Blur of Conquerors_](https://poets.org/poem/landscape-blur-conquerors), Richard Siken  
> Chapter 3: [_Saying your names_](http://youngerpoets.yupnet.org/2008/04/17/saying-your-names-crush-by-richard-siken-2004-winner/), Richard Siken  
> Chapter 4: [_Little Beast_](http://youngerpoets.yupnet.org/2008/04/22/little-beast-crush-by-richard-siken/), Richard Siken


	5. Light through the windowpanes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jango laughs, and Obi-Wan’s heart warms. He goes in for the kill.
> 
> “I don’t think I need to think very hard to see how you contribute to Keldabe’s beauty, my dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 5: Competency Kink

Jango is looking at him. It’s been happening more and more in the last couple of days, since he caught him giggling with Luminara. It would be flattering, maybe, if Jango wasn’t looking at him like he isn’t sure what to make of him. There’s too much confusion and suspicion in his gaze to make the weight of it entirely pleasant. Still, he’s _looking_ , and not entirely because he’s watching for a betrayal. That has to be worth something.

It’s not _Obi-Wan_ ’s fault if that look makes him double down on the pet-names and smiles. It’s just… Well, having Jango’s attention again is heady, and if he can nudge him in a more pleasant direction…

They’re walking through Keldabe, looking to find a soldier back to the city after a battle cost him a leg to get his point of view on a battle. It’s maybe not the best setting to flirt, but Obi-Wan has flirted with Jango in the middle of active battlefields before. A pleasant stroll in a city where many would want him dead is nothing, next to that.

“You know,” he says, amused, “when I met the twins, I told them Keldabe was beautiful and they immediately got into an argument when Fives said he ‘contributed to Keldabe’s greatness’. I’m afraid I encouraged them.”

Jango rolls his eyes, but his smile is fond. “They’re terrors.”

“Mhh… My point is, I told Fives that, maybe, if he tried _really_ hard, he might eventually find a way in which he contributed to his city’s greatness.”

Jango laughs, and Obi-Wan’s heart warms. He goes in for the kill.

“I don’t think I need to think very hard to see how you contribute to Keldabe’s beauty, my dear.”

“I—” Jango stutters before clamping his mouth shut.

He raises his chin and speeds up, leaving Obi-Wan to hurry after him with a laugh. This particular set of his shoulder means he is flustered and Obi-Wan takes pity on him. He makes to go back to their previous conversation when someone in green armor collides with Jango. He barely rocks at the movement, slowing down but not breaking his stride even as Fives all but hangs off his back.

“Cousin!” exclaims Fives with a wide smile and a dangerous look in his eyes, “I can’t believe it! Are you embarrassed?” he asks as he tweaks Jango’s ear and sing-songs, “your ears are all waaaarm!”

Fives yelps as Jango shifts, grabs him by his collar, and dumps him on the ground. And then keeps walking, head high but pointedly not looking at either Obi-Wan or Fives. Pressing his lips together to keep his laughter in check, Obi-Wan extends a hand to Fives, who takes it gratefully. He heaves the young man back to his feet just in time for Echo to slide up to them with a considering look on his face.

“What were you talking about, just now, Ben?”

Obi-Wan takes in his expression, then Fives’s, and smiles at them like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

“Keldabe’s architecture.”

“Ben,” snaps Jango from up ahead, “move it. Fives, Echo, I’m sure you have duties to go back to.”

Obi-Wan gives the twins a last smile and salute before turning on his heels to join Jango. As he walks away, Echo and Fives start whispering together. He hears “Cody” and “bet” before he gets too far to hear, and tucks the information away for later.

He smiles at a frowning Jango and gestures forward. “Shall we, darling?”

Jango pinches his lips together and Obi-Wan’s eyes drift to his mouth for a moment. Jango makes a strangled noise and turns, walking away. Back to work, then.

Obi-Wan follows with a spring in his steps.

When, having gathered a concerning testimony from the wounded soldier, Jango and Obi-Wan walk back to the castle, a shift in a nearby street catches Obi-Wan’s attention. He keeps an eye on their shadow as it follows them for a few blocks but, given that they eventually fall back and stop following them altogether, lets it go. Maybe a pick-pocket. He’ll mention it to Jango later, but there’s nothing much they can do about it now. Following them for a few blocks is not really evidence of nefarious designs.

Jango, apparently unaware of their shadow, turns to point at a mural, his voice warm as he explains that his siblings and him contributed to painting that one, as a family project. The setting sun catches in his hair, haloing his face in golden-brown curls, and Obi-Wan’s breath catches. Jango catches him staring and stares back for the briefest moment before whipping his head around and quickening his steps. Obi-Wan breathes in the golden light bathing the street and follows, shadow completely forgotten.

  
—

  
Obi-Wan sets a fresh cup of tea in front of Luminara, where she’s once again settled in a corner of the library. This time, Jango knows where he is, so he’s technically respecting the king’s wishes.

“Thank you, O—Ben. That’s very kind of you.”

“It’s a pleasure, my dear. Did I remember your tea preferences right?”

“I’m sure you did. Did you want something?”

There’s an amused twinkle in her eyes, and Obi-Wan gives her his best charming smile.

“I thought, given your apparent love for the castle library,” and what he wouldn’t give to know how she managed to get access to it, “you might know of some texts to help in my research?”

“You only want me for my knowledge, I’m hurt.”

Obi-Wan takes her hand, kisses her knuckles, and basks in her chuckle. It has been too long since they last were able to spend time together. He has missed her.

“Alright, you charmer. I’ll see what I can find. Go back to making eyes at the crown prince before he comes looking for you.”

“I do not _make eyes_ —!”

“Oh, you absolutely do. Now shoo.”

As if on cue, Jango stalks out of the bookshelves with a frown on his face.

“Ben, this is supposed to be _your_ project, not mine. Come do your work.” He turns to Luminara, nods, “Madam Unduli.”

She salutes him with a pleasant smile. “Your highness.”

Obi-Wan sighs and bows at Luminara before walking back to the other side of the library, where piles of papers still wait for them. Jango falls into step beside him.

“Why do you keep going to talk with madam Unduli? I thought you wanted to get information on Death Watch, not on royal guests.”

Obi-Wan hums. Royal guest. That’s very vague.

“Why shouldn’t I want to spend time with her? She’s a lovely woman, and given the time she spends in the library she must know its shelves and content quite well. I asked if she had any recommendations.”

Jango makes a strangled noise. “You involved a civilian in your investigation?”

“I am not _stupid_ , darling. I asked about library books, not reports on Death Watch.”

Though that doesn’t mean Luminara will not manage to get her hands on some of _those_ , too. But he’s hardly about to break her cover without discussing it with her.

“ _I_ know a lot about the library, too,” grumbles Jango as they sit back down at what Obi-Wan has started to call ‘their table’.

Obi-Wan hums, noncommittal, and hides a smile.

  
—

  
“Say, your highness…”

“You might as well call me Cody.”

“Cody, then.”

“Were you looking for Jango?”

“Ah, no, he is busy this afternoon, I was actually looking for you.”

“Am I to be your escort until he’s available again, then?”

“I suppose. But I actually wanted to talk about a certain bet that Fives and Echo may or may not have mentioned to you…”

Cody raises an eyebrow, face otherwise perfectly inscrutable. “And what about a bet?”

Obi-Wan smiles, wide and full of teeth.

“I want in.”

  
—

  
The sun is warm, the air is sweet, and Boga is happy to get some real exercise. If Obi-Wan wasn’t riding to a nearby village with Jango and half a dozen soldiers for the sake of his investigation, this would be quite a perfect day. Despite the concerns at hand, Obi-Wan tries to make the most of their outing. He takes his helmet off as soon as they’re out of sight of Keldabe, with Jango’s assurance that the soldiers with them have been cleared of any involvement or ties to Death Watch. The wind feels good in his hair and he stays mostly silent as they ride, content to watch the land unfold around them.

It’s early afternoon when things take a turn for the worse. Just as they pass through a ticket of trees that reminds Obi-Wan of another time, a Mandalorian in full armor steps out from the trees and into their path. His armor has been stripped of paint and markings and the man himself is perfectly anonymous from behind his helmet.

“If you hand us the Republic spy, we will spare you!”

Next to him, Jango stiffens, but Obi-Wan simply tilts his head to the side. They are 8 trained fighters on horses. Even with the people he obviously has hidden in the trees, this man seems very convinced of his ability to take their whole group on. They are either very numerous, or very skilled. And, more than that, they know who he is. Someone must have recognized him in the city, then, but that was just a matter of time. The stripped paint is more interesting.

“And who would you be, to make demands of your prince?” his voice is mild, but the man reacts as if he’d been struck.

“Do not speak to me, _spy_! You’ve already twisted the mind of the prince and his soldiers with your lies, you will not twist mine!”

“Do not think,” says Jango, voice icy, “that insinuating I am weak-minded will endear you to me. Only cowards and traitors strip their paint before making demands. Tell me who you answer to, leave, and I might be merciful enough to forget you threatened the life of the crown prince of Mandalore.”

The man shrinks, then gets his courage back and pulls out his sword.

“If you have fallen for his lies, you are no prince of mine and shall be disposed of like the spy!”

From there, it very quickly dissolves into chaos and Obi-Wan gets his answer: it’s not that they are very numerous—though their attackers have more men than they do—but that they are good. Not quite _great_ , but clearly battle-hardened fighters. In short order, Obi-Wan finds himself pulled off Boga’s back. He rolls, straightens, and pulls his own sword out as his horse rears up before running out of the melee, soon joined by another riderless horse. Obi-Wan falls into the well-known rhythm of battle, downing two Mandalorians in stripped armor before attempting a non-lethal take-down on the next one. The next moments are a blur of metal on metal, slashes, and parries, and Obi-Wan only realizes the battle is won when he stills his blade a hand-span away from Jango’s neck. He blinks, then immediately takes a step away and lowers his sword.

“Ah. My apologies, your highness. In the heat of the battle, I believe your armor triggered… learned reflexes from other battlefields.”

The soldiers around them, of which they seem to have lost two, are tense and clutching their weapons. Jango, on the other hand, is staring at him with… something, in his eyes, that makes Obi-Wan’s breath catch. And makes him stare back. Jango blinks first, his expression slipping into that of the crown prince as he orders the dead gathered, the wounded tended, and the horses gathered. While he is obeyed promptly, the soldiers who start tending to the wounded keep sneaking looks at Obi-Wan. In deference to their twitchiness, he makes sure to sheathe his sword and keep his hands in sight and well away from it.

Either oblivious to the byplay or, more likely, ignoring it, Jango steps closer to Obi-Wan as soon as he’s done barking orders. Much closer than he usually does.

“I think,” he says, eyes dark, “that you and I should spar together, sometime.”

Obi-Wan hides a shiver behind a smile.

“It would be my pleasure, _your highness_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's more attractive to a Mandalorian than the ability to best them in combat? Maybe the fine control necessary to come very close to killing them without actually doing so. 
> 
> \--
> 
> The fic and chapter titles come from a few of Richard Siken's and Lucy Wainger's poems  
> Fic: [_Scheherazade._](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/91308/scheherazade-582211e165e9a), Lucy Wainger  
> Chapter 1: [_Scheherazade._](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/91308/scheherazade-582211e165e9a), Lucy Wainger  
> Chapter 2: [_Landscape with a Blur of Conquerors_](https://poets.org/poem/landscape-blur-conquerors), Richard Siken  
> Chapter 3: [_Saying your names_](http://youngerpoets.yupnet.org/2008/04/17/saying-your-names-crush-by-richard-siken-2004-winner/), Richard Siken  
> Chapter 4: [_Little Beast_](http://youngerpoets.yupnet.org/2008/04/22/little-beast-crush-by-richard-siken/), Richard Siken  
> Chapter 5: [_Scheherazade_](http://youngerpoets.yupnet.org/2008/04/22/scheherazade-crush-by-richard-siken/), Richard Siken


	6. This is where we live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan carefully rolls the letter back up and turns to Jango. He doesn’t even have to ask for Jango to nod and answer.
> 
> “Take the letter to your council. Get your proofs. We’ll take care of Death Watch and send an envoy as soon as we can.”
> 
> As Obi-Wan rides away towards Theed, Jango’s gaze is heavy on his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 6: Fix-It AU

Even with his companions dead or captured, and faced with the wrath of the Mandalorian crown prince fresh out of a battle, the paint-stripped commander stubbornly refuses to fold. Luckily for them, he is also the kind of idiot who never shuts up about his plans and ‘secret knowledge.’ Obi-Wan is almost insulted at how easy it is.

As the man blabbers on about grand designs, saving Mandalore, and their future Emperor—Obi-Wan shudders as explosions flash behind his eyes—Jango’s soldiers search him and his captured and killed companions. They all took great care to get rid of any identifying markers, from armor-paint to notable weapons, but their commander did not deem a personal letter to be an identifying marker. One of the soldiers hands it to Jango, who unrolls it and reads it with furrowed brows before handing it off to Obi-Wan.

The content is less surprising than it probably should be. It’s not that Obi-Wan is used to reading orders pertaining to his death, but he is used to people wanting him dead, after living through two years of war. In addition to that, he already knows that someone must have recognized him in Keldabe. Possibly, he remembers with some embarrassment, that shadow on the day Jango showed him the mural. But as much as the content isn’t surprising, there is still something about the letter that pricks at his brain. It is signed with an ornate S, which is already a potential link to Senator Sheev Palpatine, but the handwriting is a better proof.

“I’d need a direct comparison to confirm, but I do believe that is the handwriting of one Senator Palpatine of the Republic.”

Jango sucks in a breath, teeth clenched, while the soldiers around them shift uncomfortably. On the upside, they don’t look quite as ready to attack him if he moves to quickly in Jango’s direction, now. One of the soldier, bent over one of the dead, growls and takes off her helmet.

“Your highness. This one was careless.” She pauses, face grim. “He has a ring with the Death Watch emblem.”

Obi-Wan carefully rolls the letter back up and turns to Jango. He doesn’t even have to ask for Jango to nod and answer.

“Take the letter to your council. Get your proofs. We’ll take care of Death Watch and send an envoy as soon as we can.”

As Obi-Wan rides away towards Theed, Jango’s gaze is heavy on his back.

  
—

  
When he reaches Theed, Obi-Wan learns two things: the war is at an uneasy stalemate, and the war council has moved back to Coruscant. He stops long enough to get a few battle report copies and a handful of memos penned by senator Palpatine, then rides on.

  
—

  
Obi-Wan is welcomed back to Coruscant by armed guards who politely but firmly bring him directly to the war council rooms. No amount of charm can convince his guards to tell him why he has a personal escort to what was already his destination. At least they let him keep his bag. It’s only after an awkward fifteen minutes wait, when Mace walks in with a storm brewing behind his eyes, that Obi-Wan finally gets an answer.

“The Senate suspects me of treason.”

Shaak, who followed Mace much more sedately, nods.

“It seems some senators got wind of your stint in Mandalore and decided you were a likely defector. Which is ridiculous to anyone who knows you, but many Senators have never met you personally.”

Obi-Wan runs a hand over his beard. “I assume, given that I was escorted here and not to a cell, that something was done about it?”

“I let them know you were investigating Mandalorian troop movements from the inside,” says Mace, folding his arms over his chest.

“Aptly put.”

“Yes, I thought so too. Did you find what you were looking for?”

Obi-Wan inclines his head, then flicks his eyes towards the guards still standing at the door. Shaak doesn’t so much walk as glide towards the guards, standing tall enough to look down at the both of them.

“Thank you for your help bringing General Kenobi to us. We can take it from here.”

Her voice leaves no space for objections, and the guards exchange a look before whatever they see on her face makes them turn on their heels and leave. Shaak rejoins them with a placid smile that fools neither of them.

With the guards gone, Obi-Wan takes out the letter, reports and memos, and spreads them on the closest table. They get to work.

—

  
For all that a good few senators have apparently decided he is a traitor—and he has doubts as to where that movement started from—it is surprisingly easy to get an audience with the Senate, even on a short notice. When he mentions it to Mace, he looks grim.

“The war has… not stalled, but shifted since, I assume, the moment you reached King Mereel. It’s made people uneasy. Let’s hope this puts an end to it.”

Obi-Wan hums, and settles to wait for his audience.

  
—

  
Palpatine is terrifyingly good at manipulating the moods of the Senate and, for long minutes, Obi-Wan is certain their gathered evidence will only serve to make Mace, Shaak and him executed for treason. They are all surprised, though Shaak has a satisfied glint in her eyes, when help comes from an unexpected quarter. A senate delegation headed by senators Organa, Amidala and Mothma speaks up, bringing additional evidences of Palpatine’s misdeed, and that is enough to tip the scales.

Palpatine is dragged kicking and screaming from the Senate, and vindication burns hot in Obi-Wan’s breast. 

A Mandalorian envoy arrives within the week with news of Death Watch’s disbanding and overtures of peace. Everyone, or almost, breathes out in relief. The peace talks start.

  
—

_Your highness,_

_I hope this letter finds you in good health, and that rooting out your pest problem wasn’t too taxing. Our own pest has been removed and the rest of Senate will hopefully prove less grand in their self-serving schemes._

_Do not think I have forgotten about your promised spar. I will hold you to that offer._

  
—

  
_Obi-Wan._

_You may as well call me Jango. I believe the end of the war can be largely attributed to your project. If stopping a war together doesn’t bring the formalities down, nothing will._

_The peace talks seem to be going well. With any hope, a treaty can be signed by the end of the season. Starting summer with peace feels auspicious._

_I will hold you to the implied promise to spar, as well._

  
—

  
_Jango,_

_The treaty signature is coming up in less than a week. Will I have the pleasure to see you there, darling?_

  
—

  
_I will be there._

  
—

  
When the Mandalorian contingent arrives for the treaty signature, it is headed by King Mereel and Jango and contains, surprisingly, Luminara. She waves at Obi-Wan from her position next to Cody and he waves back, bemused. From his spot at his father’s shoulder, Jango frowns. As the welcome speeches come to an end, Luminara separates from the Mandalorians and, under the amused eyes of Jaster Mereel, crosses the room to embrace first Obi-Wan, then Mace, who both embrace her back.

“I suppose,” whispers Obi-Wan against her shoulder, “that the King was made aware of your allegiances at some point before today?”

She winks at him before taking a seat at the exact mid-point between Mandalore and Republic representatives. Jango is looking at her with embarrassed understanding, while the other Mandalorians look at her askance. She folds her hands on her lap and smiles, serene. Obi-Wan swallows back a laugh.

The Treaty is discussed, argued, revised. Obi-Wan barely hears any of it, too busy watching Jango who, for his part, is fully absorbed in his role of crown prince. Except for the brief moments where his eyes dip towards Obi-Wan, catching his gaze and holding it for a second before turning back to his duties.

As new Chancellor Mon Mothma and King Mereel sign the Treaty, they both turn to their people and call forward the selected individuals to join the Embassies-to-be. Obi-Wan’s name is called and he steps forward with a satisfied smile. At the table, Luminara hides a smile behind her hand. Beside her, Mace looks skyward and sighs, but there’s a smile hiding at the corners of his mouth.

Across the table, Jango’s eyes meet his and hold.

  
—

  
Sitting on the windowsill in his new quarters in Keldabe, Obi-Wan watches the sun rise over the city. Golden light bathes the roofs, creeping up the walls to illuminate their numerous murals as life fills the streets. He stays there for long minutes, content to observe his new home as it wakes. He listens, smile dancing on his mouth, as Fives spills out into the nearby courtyard with a laugh and a complaining Echo. He listens, eyes warm, as Cody calls corrections at them as they spar.

He listens, a song in his heart, as Jango knocks at his door to invite him to breakfast.

In a moment, he will come out of his quarters and take Jango’s arm. He will flirt, Jango will flirt back, and they will go eat breakfast. Later, they will finally have that sparring session Jango promised him and Obi-Wan will banter and hope Jango banters back. In a day, a week, a month maybe, Jango might finally kiss him.

For the moment, Obi-Wan is bathed in sunlight, Fives and Echo are laughing in the courtyard, and Jango wants his company. He is happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm toying with the idea of making a companion piece to this fic, from Jango's POV...
> 
> \--
> 
> The fic and chapter titles come from a few of Richard Siken's and Lucy Wainger's poems  
> Fic: [_Scheherazade._](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/91308/scheherazade-582211e165e9a), Lucy Wainger  
> Chapter 1: [_Scheherazade._](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/91308/scheherazade-582211e165e9a), Lucy Wainger  
> Chapter 2: [_Landscape with a Blur of Conquerors_](https://poets.org/poem/landscape-blur-conquerors), Richard Siken  
> Chapter 3: [_Saying your names_](http://youngerpoets.yupnet.org/2008/04/17/saying-your-names-crush-by-richard-siken-2004-winner/), Richard Siken  
> Chapter 4: [_Little Beast_](http://youngerpoets.yupnet.org/2008/04/22/little-beast-crush-by-richard-siken/), Richard Siken  
> Chapter 5: [_Scheherazade_](http://youngerpoets.yupnet.org/2008/04/22/scheherazade-crush-by-richard-siken/), Richard Siken  
> Chapter 6: [_Snow and Dirty Rain_](https://genius.com/Richard-siken-snow-and-dirty-rain-annotated), Richard Siken


	7. I’ll call you darling, hold you tight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jango wakes up to the ceiling of his quarters in Keldabe, sits up, and, for a moment, doesn’t know where he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 7: Happy Ending

Jango wakes up to the ceiling of his quarters in Keldabe, sits up, and, for a moment, doesn’t know where he is. Contradictory memories of falling asleep in his bed and falling asleep in a forest clearing clamor for attention before slipping away, replaced by more and more memories all jumbled together. Gripping his head with both hands, pulling at his hair to anchor himself in the present, Jango marshals his thoughts in order. Once he no longer feels like his head will explode, he takes a deep breath and sits up properly, setting his feet on the cold stone floor of his bedroom.

He is in Keldabe, three months after the Peace Treaty. The war is ( ~~still going on, will go on for one more year~~ ) over. His father is ( ~~dead~~ ) alive, as are all his siblings. Obi-Wan is… 

Jango stumbles to his feet and, heedless of the fact that he is still barefoot and wearing soft bedclothes unfit for running through the castle, bursts out of his room. At this hour, Obi-Wan is either still in his room, or in the courtyard he favors. The courtyard is closer.

Jango runs.

He comes to an abrupt stop under the arch leading to the courtyard, taking the familiar picture in with new eyes. Obi-Wan is sitting, cross-legged, on his favorite bench, a book in his lap and a cup of tea next to him. The sun warms his hair and beard to a bright copper. And the flowers around the bench… Suddenly, Jango knows ( ~~has known, should have known~~ ) why Obi-Wan favors this courtyard. In another life, they once shared a quiet moment on a similar bench, in a city in ruins, surrounded by the perfume of similar flowers.

Obi-Wan is beautiful, and Jango didn’t even know he _missed_ him until this morning.

He must make a sound, as Obi-Wan raises his head and gives him a smile, his eyes fond but ever so slightly distant. Patient, instead of expectant. His heart hurts, even as it swells with pride and loss both. Obi-Wan has worked so hard, achieved so much, and he wasn’t _really_ there to support and help him.

“ _Cyare_ …”

It’s barely above a whisper, and yet the hope that blooms over Obi-Wan’s face at the word makes it akin to a shout.

“ _Cyare_!” he repeats, a smile overtaking his face.

Obi-Wan jumps up, letting his book tumble to the ground without care and, between a moment and the other, Jango finds his arms full of a smiling, teary Obi-Wan.

“Oh, Jango, you… I thought…”

He presses their foreheads together, laughs, overflowing with happiness. “Just this morning, _cyare_. I missed you, I… You did _so well_!”

They press closer together, standing under the arch, and Obi-Wan kisses him like he’s been waiting for years to do so. In a way, he has been. One kiss melts into another, then another and, if they sometimes taste salty with tears, there is enough happiness gathered in their embrace to make up for it.

Jango has no idea how long they stay there, holding each other upright, trading kisses and words of affection, but the sound of one of his brothers clearing his throat behind him is not welcome. He uncurls an arm from around Obi-Wan and raises his hand over his shoulder to gesture rudely at his brother. Against his lips, Obi-Wan chuckles.

“So,” says Rex, voice a horrifying mixture of contemplative and mischievous, “does that mean Cody won the bet?”

Before Jango can do anything more than frown, Obi-Wan pulls back and says, grinning: “As a matter of fact, I believe _I_ am the winner of this particular bet.”

Already distracted from this bet he doesn’t know about, Jango pulls Obi-Wan close again and presses their foreheads together. Behind him, like the terrible little brother he is, Rex makes offended noises as he backs away.

  
—

  
They go see Jaster, once they’ve taken the time to bask in their reunion. Jango, still all but wrapped around Obi-Wan, announces that they are getting married, with or without Jaster’s help.

“I know it must seem a bit sudden but—” he says, trying to see it from his father’s point of view.

Jaster stops him in his tracks by bursting into laughter. When Jango looks at Obi-Wan in confusion, Obi-Wan gives him a fond look and shakes his head.

“My dear, the only person who would ever think this seems sudden is you. I have been flirting with you for the better part of a year. And you _let me_.”

Jango groans and hides his face in Obi-Wan’s shoulder, tuning out his father who is _still laughing_. 

No matter what he later says on the subject, getting laughed at for his obliviousness is well worth it to have Obi-Wan smiling, in his arms, for the rest of their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap!  
> I'll be working on a shorter companion piece from Jango's POV, though I've no idea when it'll be ready to get posted...
> 
> \--
> 
> The fic and chapter titles come from a few of Richard Siken's and Lucy Wainger's poems  
> Fic: [_Scheherazade._](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/91308/scheherazade-582211e165e9a), Lucy Wainger  
> Chapter 1: [_Scheherazade._](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/91308/scheherazade-582211e165e9a), Lucy Wainger  
> Chapter 2: [_Landscape with a Blur of Conquerors_](https://poets.org/poem/landscape-blur-conquerors), Richard Siken  
> Chapter 3: [_Saying your names_](http://youngerpoets.yupnet.org/2008/04/17/saying-your-names-crush-by-richard-siken-2004-winner/), Richard Siken  
> Chapter 4: [_Little Beast_](http://youngerpoets.yupnet.org/2008/04/22/little-beast-crush-by-richard-siken/), Richard Siken  
> Chapter 5: [_Scheherazade_](http://youngerpoets.yupnet.org/2008/04/22/scheherazade-crush-by-richard-siken/), Richard Siken  
> Chapter 6: [_Snow and Dirty Rain_](https://genius.com/Richard-siken-snow-and-dirty-rain-annotated), Richard Siken  
> Chapter 7: [_Saying your names_](http://youngerpoets.yupnet.org/2008/04/17/saying-your-names-crush-by-richard-siken-2004-winner/), Richard Siken


End file.
